Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79185 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Porter relents and steps aside as I let go of the halter and loosen my hold on the rope. Storm backs away, but he has little room to move in his stall. The first thing we both notice is he’s able to keep his hoof down.
“I think I got it,” Porter says with something akin to pride in his expression.
I smile. “I think you’re right. Thank God.”
“You’ll feel better now,” Porter says, patting his mane one last time before exiting his stall.
That’s when the stable door opens, and a groom appears. I lift my hand to shush him as he approaches so he doesn’t spook Storm.
“What’s going on, boss?”
“Seems Storm got a stone lodged in his hoof. Porter thinks he got it out.”
He winces, either because he knows what a bear it likely was with a horse like Storm or because he knows how important the farrier’s visit will be for the new stock so they’re not vulnerable to injury.
“I haven’t been able to get close enough, so you two apparently make a good team.”
Porter looks away.
I thump Porter’s shoulder. “Nah, it was all him.”
“I’ll keep an eye out, to make sure a bruise doesn’t form.”
“Sounds good,” Porter replies.
He replaces the pick on the nail as we head out of the stable doors.
“Don’t even say it,” Porter tells me when we’re away from prying eyes.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything,” I tease, nudging him off-balance with my shoulder. “Oops.”
“Oh yeah?” Before I can get away, Porter has me in a headlock, and we’re laughing like we did when we roughhoused as kids.
When I finally get out of his grasp, I look up to see Wade and Randy standing outside the bunkhouse, having what looks like a serious conversation.
I straighten immediately, realizing my mistake. No way I want to show any favoritism toward Porter or make it seem like he has any sway over me.
“Just you never mind,” Wade says, shooing Randy toward his truck.
Randy gives us one more assessing glance before climbing inside and taking off.
“Well, shit,” I whisper under my breath. “We’re gonna need to cool it.”
“I’ll try my best, boss.” Porter smirks as he salutes me and heads toward the bunkhouse.
Chapter 18
Porter
We’ve spent the day with cow shit, and none of us smell the better for it. We need to prep the pastures, so Sully and Wade went out there and gave it a good mow with the rotary cutters, and now me, Bulldog, Big Jimmy, and Randy are dragging the pasture and spreading manure. It’s not my favorite job in the world, but it needs to be done. We need to recycle nutrients into the soil. When it gets cold, the nutrients will sink in, so we get healthier soil in the spring.
Randy’s been keeping an eye on me all afternoon. Hell, he has since he saw me with Sully a few days before. There’s this angry, jealous glint in his eyes that reminds me of a cartoon villain. I’ve known men like him before, who always have something to complain about and always think they’re getting the short end of the stick, and for whatever reason, he’s set his sights on me.
I don’t give a fuck. Not really. I’ve dealt with worse assholes than him, but if he causes problems for Sully or Pixie, that’s when I’m going to lose my shit about this.
As much as I don’t want to admit it, Randy reminds me of my dad, and that thought doesn’t sit comfortably in my gut.
“You piss in his cheerios or what?” Bulldog asks, nodding toward Randy. Clearly, I’m not the only one who noticed he’s angrier than usual.
“Somethin’ like that.”
I put my head down and get back to work. That’s what I’m here for, not to chitchat or to let it bother me if Randy is having a hissy fit. Unfortunately, the peace doesn’t last, and a few minutes later, while we’re taking a break, Randy says, “Surprised you’re out here. Been kissin’ the boss’s ass to get out of the shit jobs.”
Little does he know that I have, in fact, kissed Sully’s ass, though not in years and not for the reasons he thinks. But I don’t have the patience for his crap today. “Maybe you should worry more about what you’re doing than what everyone else is doing. Seems to me, if you’re not getting the jobs you want, that says a whole lot more about you than it does me.”
Randy scrambles toward me, and while I wouldn’t mind having a crack at him, I don’t want to disrespect Sully that way. Still, I square my shoulders because I’m not backing down. Big Jimmy, who’s six feet four, grabs Randy by the back of his shirt before he can get any closer to me.
“You can let him go,” I say.
“Not a chance in hell,” Big Jimmy replies. “Get your shit together, Randy.” As he drags Randy away, I hear Big Jimmy add quietly, “You’re losing control.”